


Close Encounters

by DanOfVulcan



Series: Momentos [11]
Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: M/M, Tuckerreed, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-22
Updated: 2016-04-22
Packaged: 2018-05-31 15:21:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6475573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DanOfVulcan/pseuds/DanOfVulcan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I'm finally done with revising this one. I'd like to thank each and every person who read this, especially since it was a less-than-stellar version. Also, I'd like it to be known that I will NOT be uploading any new parts to this series, or any other fic for that matter, that has not been thouroughly edited and revised. <br/>More notes about this fic at the end.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Close Encounters

**Author's Note:**

> I'm finally done with revising this one. I'd like to thank each and every person who read this, especially since it was a less-than-stellar version. Also, I'd like it to be known that I will NOT be uploading any new parts to this series, or any other fic for that matter, that has not been thouroughly edited and revised.   
> More notes about this fic at the end.

_Two days. It's been two days,_ Trip Tucker thought to himself as he made his way to the mess hall. _I've barely seen the guy. He's clearly avoiding me._

He took a turn as he approached the large room and could see people coming in and out of it. The combined sound of conversation, and cutlery against china , reverberating down the hallway.

_It's a big ship, alright. But not big enough. I'll find him, and he's gonna hear me out._

As he entered the mess hall, the engineer quickly glanced around the room, his eyes searching for a certain dark-haired one. Taking a few steps forward, so as to be closer to the tables, he glanced around again, but to no avail.

"He's gone, Commander"

Trip looked sideways at the sound of Hoshi's voice, and found her sitting at a table just beside him. How had he missed her?!

She was serving herself to some Plomeek Soup and toasts. A mug of coffee sat beside the plate.

Trip sighed.

"That obvious?"

"Only to me", she said between a sympathetic smile. Sensing the blonde's frustration, she set the cutlery aside. "Sir, if it's any consolation, he left just a momento ago. Less than a minute ago, I'd say".

Trip looked at her, then again scanned the room with his gaze.

"Nah. It's okay". Resignation and a stinge of disappointment coloring his tone. "I'll talk to him some other time".

He turned to get his food, but not before wishing Hoshi a good meal.

 

***

 

Pussyfooting around E deck, Malcolm felt tense. Tactical simulations, coupled with periodic maintenance of the targeting array, had left him and his team with their hands full for most of the morning, and now he was in dire need of caffeine.

As he, very cautiously, made his way to the nearest turbolift, he cradled the coffee mug in his hands, savoring the rich smell emanating from it.

_So worth the risk of running into Trip._

He took another sip from the mug, the dark, intense taste rolling in his tongue.

 _Oh, this feels good,_ and just as he was turning at a corner, he felt more than saw the blonde.

Instincts taking over, Malcolm quickly moved back to the security offered by the bulkhead, leaning against the wall, his breath quick, shallow, as silent as it could be.

Trip was there. But was he standing there, waiting for someone, or was he going somewhere? If so, where was he going?! He could be moving over here! All thoughts crossed the Englishman's mind in a split second, and he swiftly poked his head over the corner of the corridor just enough to have a view.

The blonde was clearly moving away now, down the opposite end of the long corridor, all the while looking sideways, clearly searching for something.

_Or someone._

Malcolm watched him carefully, and it was painfully obvious that the engineer really was looking for someone.

_Me. He's looking for me._

At every corner, where corridors met, Trip would look sideways, checking to see if anyone was roaming them.

Suddenly, the blonde came to a stop.

Malcolm chilled.

When the engineer started to turn around, the armory officer moved behind the corner altogether, leaned against the wall, and listened closely. It didn't sound as if Trip, anyone really, was walking down the corridor. The air was still, and not a sound could be heard.

After what seemed like a lifetime, he poked his head over the corner, and there was no one. The empty corridor greeting his sight.

Malcolm let out a deep sigh, and resumed his way back to the armory, glad that at least the coffee was good enough to risk and encounter.

 

***

 

The pan-fried catfish didn't taste as good as usual this lunch, though through no fault of Chef's. Twice had Malcolm Reed managed to avoid Trip, and the blonde was downright frustrated.

First, in the mess hall. According to Hoshi, the Englishman had left not long before Trip arrived. Then, mid morning, the engineer had dropped by the armory just to be informed, by one of the Lieutenant's subordinates, that he had left "a few minutes ago, though he didn't say where he was going" and risked that "it must've been for a coffee, because everyone is dead tired down here" before realizing what he had just said, to which Trip assured he wouldn't relay that to the Lieutenant, much to the peace of mind of the crewman.

_So close. So damn close... Oh, you'll hear me out, Malcolm._

"Something wrong with the catfish, Trip?" Jon's inquiry wakes me up from my reverie, ever so pleasantly. Jon really is a nice guy, always so tactful, and he got that smile on his face. That one smile that tells me he's got an open ear my troubles, and above all that he's willing to help.

"Is nothin', really" I say, not convincing myself.

Jon shoots me that look of understanding that I'm not ready, or wanting to, talk about it.

_3, 2, 1..._

"If you ever feel like talking about it..."

_Ah! There it is! Predictable, but so kind-hearted._

"Thanks. I'll remember that",I say, and Jon smiles once more, dropping the subject.

 

 

***

 

 

 

  _  
_ Making his way down the corridor, Malcolm Reed felt nothing but relief. After the close encounter mid-morning, thank his need for a coffee, he hadn't seen one Charles Tucker III all through the rest of the day. Now, his shift was over, and he was making his way to his quarters for a much needed rest.

He took a left turn, avoided a few crewmen coming and going, and headed for the closest turbolift.

 _Busy corridors,_ Malcolm thought to himself, as he avoided yet again another crewman, this one carrying a pile of padds. As the turbolift came to a stop, the doors opened and Malcolm was almost there when he heard it. The clatter of objects hitting the ground. Not a second later came the voice of the crewman, clearly distressed, apologizing.

Malcolm never thought of looking back at the incident. _They most likely bumped into one another, the padds falling all over the place..._

"I'm sorry, Commander. It was my fault"

Malcolm's blood congealed in his veins.

_Damn the man! Bloody stubborn yank!_

If the crash had not deserved a glance, it sure as hell wasn't worth now! Not with Trip Tucker just a few steps down the corridor. Quickly, Malcolm entered the turbilift, which was still waiting, the door open, and two enlisted crewman inside, looking rather curiously at the mess some meters away. As he turned to close the door, Malcolm caught Trip's stare. The blue eyes filled with intent and drive. They blinked, and that was the last Malcolm saw before the door closed.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> So, about the third section of this fic. I know, and it has been pointed out, that there is a change from 3rd to 1st person. That is intentional.


End file.
